


Three Things

by trascendenza



Category: Superman Returns (2006)
Genre: Multi, Remixed, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-14
Updated: 2006-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-25 01:43:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1624904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trascendenza/pseuds/trascendenza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark finds out that love isn't so simple as he thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elsandry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elsandry/gifts).



> I'd like to thank the ever patient tinheart for being my greatest Superman cheerleader and an awesome beta.
> 
> There's a great remix of this story at called [Love You Both](http://community.livejournal.com/remix_redux/84958.html) by likeadeuce.

It started slow.

Clark borrowed a stapler here, a post-it there. As time went on he graduated to hovering around her desk, filling up the space all around it and trying to create a situation where it would be impossible for her _not_ to notice him.

It was asking about Jason that finally got her to tear her eyes away from whatever she was madly jotting down on the yellow pad. She'd cocked her head, smiling, curls falling just so around the right side of her face, the way that made him want to reach out and tuck it behind her ear. But even as Superman he wouldn't have dared.

They had coffee sporadically over a few months, an injection of caffeine caught here and there, friendly words that became less strained and more real as their breaks stretched from minutes into whole clusters of minutes and, eventually, into a whole half an hour.

He found out just how much she'd changed. There was a softening in her demeanor, places that motherhood had made its mark and filled her out. She laughed easier and it seemed she'd learned to value things she would have considered disposable in her former incarnation as Lois Lane, the fierce and unstoppable.

She had found the one thing that could re-arrange the order of her titles—now "mother" was at the front, with "wife" making a rapid approach right behind it.

He'd memorized the ring, everything about it, even how it looked from the inside out. Any time her eyes had wandered from their table, often in their first days out, his had been riveted to the talisman as if by magnetic force. He hadn't been sure if he'd wanted to melt it or to strengthen it.

Because even as she'd been learning that Clark wasn't a disposable man, after all, she'd also been discovering that maybe Richard _was_ everything she wanted.

Keeping his distance from Richard wasn't fully intentional, but there was something about the man that made him uncomfortable, besides just the obvious. Clark had no desire to pinpoint what it was.

All that was important now was finding the right time to tell Lois.

*

In his complete inability to form logical thought around her, he told her at the office. In some part of his mind he'd rationalized that she would be less likely to cause a scene at the office, that she'd have time during the day to cool off and then they could discuss it calmly after they got off work.

In all this time getting to know the new Lois, he'd almost forgotten what had drawn him in that first time they met: the fire.

It blazed hot, manifesting in the same stapler he'd borrowed being thrown at his head, picture frames flying, Richard's poor desk chair being kicked over and his door cracking when she slammed it behind her. He sat on the floor, glum, hearing her shoes _ratta-tat-tat_ on the floors all the way down to the street. She cursed him under her breath the whole way, pausing only to hail a taxi.

*

Richard took in the state of his office with remarkable aplomb, making one quick assessment of the damage and then crouching down beside Clark.

Of all the unexpected things, he placed a hand on Clark's shoulder. He even smiled; it was oddly reassuring.

"She'll come around. Don't worry."

Clark knew that he was giving Richard a look that contained far too much truth in it; he had to suppress the urge to pin him to the wall and demand answers: _How do you know? What else about Lois has changed these past five years? What do_ you _have that I don't?_

His cheeks flamed as the last thought crossed his mind and he had to look away, clearing his throat.

"I'm sorry about the mess. She didn't—I didn't—I shouldn't have—" Clark held his hands up helplessly, truly unable to find the right words.

Richard crossed his legs and sat down, just short of their thighs touching.

"She already knew." His gaze did not waver from Clark's.

Clark opened his mouth to pantomime the appropriate ignorant response, but the understanding he saw in the other man's face evoked a completely different response.

"Then why did she…?"

Now it was Richard who looked away. "Because I had… I thought she already knew."

Clark nodded, heavily. "And how did you…?"

Richard laughed a little. "I didn't make Editor for nothing, you know." He stared at the shades which had dropped when Lois slammed her way out, effectively hiding them away from the prying eyes of the office.

"But it was that first day. When you asked her out for coffee and she brushed you away like so much lint. I may be holed up in an office but it's really the perfect place for watching everything. And when you picked up the photo on her desk, when you were looking at it…" Richard waved his hand, trying to draw the intangible into language. "Your face changed. Like where Clark Kent had been standing two seconds ago there was now a completely different man."

He leaned back on his arms, leveling his eyes at Clark. "The way you look now. Not quite Superman, not quite Clark. But just enough to see both."

Right then, right there, in Richard's eyes, Clark knew what he'd found disconcerting about Richard from the very second they'd met: there was no hiding from him.

*

Over lunch they talked about Jason, Clark near-bursting with the questions that he hadn't wanted to ask earlier for fear of scaring Lois off. Richard's patience, probably honed by fatherhood over the past five years, bore it all with quiet amusement.

Lois joined them as they were moving onto dessert and ordered herself a light sorbet with strawberries on the side. The fire was still burning, but in manageable proportions, and instead of yelling, she told Clark in no uncertain terms that if he wanted to be a part of her life in any way, shape or form, they'd have to lay out some ground rules.

"Three things," she said, lifting up a single finger to illustrate her first point. "First off—no lying. I don't know what kind of rules Kryptonian society lived by, but here on this planet, honesty is highly valued." She pointed the upraised finger at him. "And one that I have every right to expect from you."

"Second," another finger, and now she pointed them in Richard's direction, "Richard is Jason's father and nothing will ever change that." Richard leaned forward but she slashed her fingers in the air, "Richard, I'm not done yet. And I know that you want me to go easy on him but this isn't an easy situation for anyone, and since I'm the one in the middle, we're going to have to do this my way." She looked at him pointedly until he sat back in his chair, hands raised in surrender.

"Third," this finger she raised more slowly. She looked at each of them, biting her lip.

"I love you both. And there's nothing we can do about that, either."

By the time their dessert had come they had no appetite and Richard paid the check in silence. They each went off to his or her respective place of thought—Richard, his office, disheveled though it was, Clark to the skies, and Lois to the animal shelter to visit the kitten they were thinking of adopting, now that Jason was no longer allergic. All were a bit afraid to return to the White residence that night because they knew their future would be decided before it was over.

*

Richard interrupted the tense conversation about visitation rights with a gentle fortitude.

"I think Clark should move in."

Clark blinked while Lois sputtered, turning completely on her axis to face him and hissing in a whisper, "we never discussed this, Richard."

He tipped his wine glass at her. "Isn't that the whole point? That it isn't just about us any more?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, conceding, though the lines were still tight around her mouth.

"I'm sure that would be too much of a—"

"Hear me out," Richard said, rising. Clark's jaw worked uselessly and Lois crossed her arms over her chest.

"Lois, you and I work in the same place and we have no problems living together. So please don't try to use that argument with me. And as Jason grows up… this is only going to get stranger and stranger for him. I think it's him we should be remembering in this situation and not," he paused for emphasis, "things that have happened _in the past_. What we are looking at is a boy with a future more uncertain than most." He crouched between the two of them, placing a hand on each of their knees. "I want you both to think about this very carefully. Because Jason's going to need everything we can give him. Possibly sooner than you'd think."

He returned to his spot on the couch with one more meaningful glance at each of them, taking an unusually large gulp from the wine glass. Lois raised hers, untouched in her hand to this point, and downed it all in one long and surprisingly fast swallow. Richard and Clark both watched her, wide-eyed, and when she slammed the glass down on the table, they smiled at one another simultaneously.

The three looked at each other, the slight _pinging_ that Lois's wine glass had made on the table snapping something in the room, and they all burst into relieved, if slightly hysterical, laughter.

*

He'd moved in two months later with little fuss, his belongings hardly taking up more than a quarter of the space in their spare bedroom.

It had taken more than a few lunches, dinners, and panicked phone calls to Richard to bring him to this point. He was thankful for it, but somehow, even though he was right where he'd wanted to be—his room was even next to Jason's—he was more confused than ever. At first he'd just been gratified that he could talk to Richard at all, and as time went on he'd found that they had more in common than just a love of Jason, Lois, and flying. But as Richard's smiles grew warmer, his calls lasting longer into the night and the wine flowing a bit too freely between them on some of those nights, he had come to see that what was once discomfort was now become something altogether different. Awkward for completely different reasons.

It was hard enough not knowing where he stood with Lois. He almost liked it better when Richard had been a rival. At least then he'd been identifiable.

Now he was undefinable, a man who had convinced Clark to overcome every one of his rational instincts and encouraged him to nurture the feeling in his gut telling him that _all_ he wanted was a life with them, no matter how it came.

*

On the third night, Richard started slipping into his room. Didn't say a word, didn't do anything other than lie under the covers and get up in the morning after Clark had finished showering. Clark blushed from head to toe every time Lois saw them leaving the bedroom, wanting to explain, to reassure her—

But she didn't need it. She just smiled at him, a little secretive, and gave them each kisses on the cheek. It was a few more days before Clark could give them back, brushing so softly against her cheek that he might have just been a whisper.

One night he started to ask, but before the first word was fully formed Richard answered, "of course she knows." Clark fell silent, feeling silly for even wondering.

He rather liked the way Richard breathed while he slept.

It was soothing. It made Clark feel at home.

*

The next week, after he'd taken Clark out to experience the joys of Ouzo at his favorite Greek restaurant, Richard hooked two fingers into Clark's belt and turned his face up, letting Clark decide where they would go.

Clark ran a fingertip over Richard's chest, grazing softly, navigating over and around the buttons and pushing past them delicately to reach Richard's warm skin.

Their kiss was chaste but he felt it down to the tips of his toes, humming in the blood that beat through his veins.

"Go to her," Richard whispered, nodding his head back towards the door.

He went, trembling, one last look back for strength at Richard lying in what he now considered their bed.

*

She was standing in front of the window, arms wrapped around her waist, dressed in a white camisole that hit at her knees and hugged her curves.

"I didn't believe him," she said and he could practically hear her smiling; it drew him in from the doorway. "I didn't think there was any way that a boy from Smallville could ever go for something like this."

"I wouldn't have believed him if he'd told me… everything he had in mind," Clark said, his voice tripping over itself, still hesitant to come out around Lois.

When she turned he saw the tears glinting in her eyes.

"I can't tell you… how…" She dashed at them, laughing, "Isn't it strange? I feel so… happy." She stepped closer, arms falling to her sides. "I'd almost forgotten what it was like." She took Clark's hands in hers, biting her lip. "The last time I felt this way was five years ago." And then she met Clark's eyes, but there was no accusation anymore, just a painful flash of exposure like she'd never been able to show him outside of the safety of her own home. "That night before you left."

He held her until morning, covering her in soft kisses and telling her with the certainty of steel that he would never be leaving them again.

*

It took another two weeks of persistent coaxing before Clark felt comfortable enough to move some of his things into their bedroom. Richard convinced them that this called for a celebration and they had a three course meal at Papalous's Palace.

Fortified by a pitcher of the finest Ouzo and two bottles of Richard's secret stash, he'd let himself be drawn into their room—he couldn't think of it as his, yet. He felt himself floating as they undressed, Richard's strong fingers brushing through his hair and Lois's nails running over his arms. The suit fell under their deft ministrations, a pile of primary pooled at their feet, and they treaded over it in their mingling kisses, wine and honey and the nuts from the baklava all mixing on their tongues.

He was awash in an awakening of sensation, re-learning all of Lois's swells and crests, tracing out the firm lines of Richard's body. There was no urgency in their explorations—they shared long kisses and light laughter, the joy of how new this was for all three, slowly and luxuriously finding the ways their bodies fit together.

Clark suppressed the familiar rush of fear when he found himself between them, but Richard's hands kneading softly into his shoulders and Lois sidling up very, very close to his front left him effectively trapped.

The Ouzo was telling him not to mind and he was inclined to listen.

He knew that with his physiology there was nowhere he could place the blame, not even on the Grecian waiter who had insisted they have bottomless refills. And then Lois was biting his neck in just that spot and Richard was working his fingers under the last vestige of cloth that was keeping his sanity intact and he was beyond the point of caring, beyond the point of _should_ s and _shouldn't_ s.

And what he found was, once he let loose the shackles of his sensibilities, the three of them fit together quite nicely.

*

All the beliefs he'd been raised with until the age that he'd learned of his otherworldly heritage told him that he was dishonoring the sanctity of marriage (the fact that they weren't married yet was moot).

Yet when Richard quoted great philosophers to him on the subject of love's infinite expressions, or he remembered the teachings of Jor-El, he couldn't help but see that maybe there was nothing wrong with letting himself be the third piece to a puzzle that created a beautiful picture.

In the end, as Richard said, a family was a family.

And Clark, without even knowing he'd been searching, had found his.


End file.
